Anomaly Novels & Stories

"Baby, what's wrong? Talk to me." I was lost about where to start or how to unravel the tale I'd been told. There were too many moving pieces and parts I wasn't familiar with to paint an accurate picture. While rationally, I should have been more careful with my word choice, what flew out at the moment was less than eloquent. "Gwendolyn thinks you need to have Legend tested." His face contorted with confusion. "Tested? For what? He seems healthy as a horse." "Huntingtons. It's hereditary." And just like that, the cat was out of the bag, and the weight began to lift from my shoulders. It wasn't fair to James, yet anytime I needed to unload, he'd always helped me carry my burden—this was no di

"An anomaly, the last time it happened was during the war. Has that figure reappeared in this world? No, right? He died long ago sealing our master!" Some of them did not believe that their failure was caused by an anomaly. It was only natural that their small plans failed due to trivial matters or because there were some miscalculations among them. So even though they called it an anomaly, it didn't mean it would continue to happen, and they also didn't know who that person was. Even their god didn't explain anything about the figure who could cause anomalies in their plans. Seeing that all the m

Like space had opened behind her ribs and let the cold out. She set the note down and leaned back. Six seconds. Maybe seven. Just enough for silence to settle. Just enough for memory to brush up against her armor. And that was all it took. The system saw it. On the backend, a new thread opened. It didn’t log it as a breach. Or a drop in performance. It logged it as something else: DEVIATION: 6.31 SECONDS CLASSIFICATION: BEHAVIORAL ANOMALY RESPONSE: NONE

“It’s a gift.” Lucian barely looked up. But Eva’s smile lingered a second too long. Izzy glanced between them, brows drawing together. But then the screen behind her beeped. A red spike shot across the map. Lucian stood quickly. “What is that?” Izzy's face went pale. “It’s Aethelgard. The anomaly. It’s spiking again. Harder. Sharper. Something just activated... or arrived.” Lucian and Eva locked eyes.

I muttered over and over again. Jasper looked at me confused. “What’s wrong?” Noah asked us in confusion. “I think—I think we just accidentally bonded,” I told the room. Fuck me.

Pale light leaking through. A containment gate. My chest tightened. Jamal stepped closer to it “You are not taking her.” The failsafe studied him, then it said something that made my blood run ice cold. “Secondary anomaly detected.” Jamal froze “What.” The failsafe took one step closer to him. “Unstable probability signature” it said “Dormant divergence pattern and escalation potential high” I stared at Jamal. “No,” I whispered. Jamal looked back at me, confusion flashing across his face.

Silence again. This time, I felt it shift not absence, but tension. “You are an anomaly,” Elias said. “Your behavioral patterns deviate from expected responses at a statistically significant level.” “Congratulations,” I said. “That’s called being human.” “Your presence introduces noise into predictive models,” he continued. “Noise increases systemic risk.” “Or reveals flawed assumptions,” I countered. The silhouette flickered. “Your emotional attachment to uncertainty compromises your reasoning.” “And your lack of it compromises your morality,” I replied.

Kairi was on his knees ten feet away, his face ashen, his hands gripping the earth as if to tear the world apart to find me. Our eyes met. Assessor Seven stood between us, its slate cracked down the middle, white light leaking from the fracture. It looked from the key in my hand, to the healed pool, to the two of us. “Conclusion,” it said, its voice glitching, skipping. “Anomaly is… self-defining. Containment… impossible. Recalibration… ill-advised. Threat assessment… requires… complete… re-evaluation.” With a final, broken chime, it dissolved into motes of light that blew away on the breeze.

Then: “You become a persistent anomaly,” he said. Silence. That was the most dangerous classification yet. Not wrong. Not right. Anomaly. Aurora nodded slowly. “So I either align,” she said quietly, “or I remain a problem.” “Yes.” Silence. That was the structure now. Binary reduction. Aurora looked at Elias for a long moment. “And you are the one interpreting me,” she said quietly. Elias didn’t deny it. “Yes.” A pause.

Matteo sits up. “Of course it is.” The ship attempts to isolate the anomaly. Fails. Attempts again. Fails again. “It’s not external,” Aidan says. I glance at him. “Explain.” He steps closer to the console, his focus narrowing. “It’s not coming from outside the system.” Silence. Then— “…What,” Matteo says. “It’s internal,” Aidan continues. “That’s not better.” “No,” I agree. The projection flickers. Not distortion.